


And To All A Merry Yule

by klose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Community: hp_holidaygen, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-16
Updated: 2011-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:19:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/365877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klose/pseuds/klose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of various characters during Christmas at Hogwarts, in the year of 1993. </p><p>(Written for the hp_holidaygen exchange 2011 @ LJ.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And To All A Merry Yule

**Author's Note:**

> My deepest thanks to Leah/[](http://liebedance.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://liebedance.livejournal.com/) **liebedance** for the quick but sharp beta-read (all remaining mistakes are my own!).

**

24th December, 1993 - morning

Snape was alone in the dungeons, and that was the way he preferred it. Lily never understood how he could work in silence, and so she often filled it with words. Her words were always beautiful, though; Severus never minded. It was only in later years that they began to disagree about everything...

Before all that, they'd had a tradition. Every winter, they would sneak into the dungeons and brew their own batch mulled wine. It was a potion of a different kind, really, and Lily had a knack for knowing what made a potion fantastic, and what didn't. Between the two of them, the spiced wine they came up with was always better than anything from Hogsmeade or the Hogwarts kitchens. It was more flavourful and fragrant; it never failed to warm Severus right down to his fingers and toes.

The first goblet from the cauldron was always shared with Lily. She would take the initial, tentative sip, followed by Severus, and they'd end up snatching it back and forth, trying to outdrink each other midst their laughs. The goblet would be down to its' dregs before they realised it, and the cauldron would be emptied not long after. But, Lily and Severus always agreed, that very first goblet tasted best of all.

It had been almost two decades since his lips had drunk of mulled wine in any form.

Perhaps it was the presence of Remus Lupin, or the news of Sirius Black's escape tainting him with some maudlin need to revisit the past. Or perhaps it was the fact that most of the student body – and all but one of his Slytherins – had gone home for the holidays, thus allowing him to work in glorious peace without any interruptions. Whatever it was, without any actual conscious thought about it, Severus found himself pulling out his old pewter cauldron, and digging through his old cooking stores.

He set to crushing some cinnamon sticks, cloves, and nutmeg with in his mortar. Then to boil with some water in the old pewter cauldron. Minoan honey went in next, followed by Goblin or centaur wine - and for this brew, it was to be a bottle of the former, as given to him some years previous by one of his Slytherin students. Finally, there was the rhyme. It had been Lily’s idea, and Severus agreed to it only grudgingly.

> First with sticks of cinnamon and stars of anise,  
>  Then nectar of the gods stirred with grapes of fantastic beasts  
>  Now let this simmering libation be fit for the likes of Merlin, Paracelsus,  
>  And the most wondrous Kings and Queens.

It wasn't a particularly melodious chant - or even a palatably lyrical one, to be fair - but you couldn't expect much from a pair of eleven year-olds who possessed little to no interest in poetry. Yet, to Severus's palate, mulled wine made without the recital had nowhere near as much charm or sweetness.

He stirred one last revolution with his wand, and the brew shimmered. He'd always wanted to test it at this point, but Lily would never fail to slap his hand back. She would pour out that first goblet, and inhale deeply of its fumes. "Here's to a new year, Severus," she would say, taking that first sip.

Severus served up the first goblet. "Happy new year, Lily," he murmured, and brought the cup to his lips.

***

24th December, 1993 - afternoon

Dobby was excited. It was to be his first Yule as a free elf. His first away from Malfoy Manor - and his first in Hogwarts! House-elves at Hogwarts still had to work during the holiday season, but Dobby was excited to cook a Christmas feast for guests that included Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. Anyway, Dumbledore Sir had offered Dobby time off on Christmas, but that was far too much for Dobby - !

There was not much to do around the castle, for most of the students and teachers had left. Altogether, only twelve occupants remained Hogwarts for the house-elves to care during the holidays. Thus when Dobby found himself with a free moment, he settled into an unused corner of the castle - away from the other elves, because they did not like or understand Dobby's hobby - and took out his knitting needles. He enjoyed making his own socks and clothes, for now he could choose whatever he wanted to wear.

Maybe next Christmas, he would thank Dumbledore – and perhaps brave Harry Potter, too – with some socks. Because free elves could give such presents - and maybe, some day, receive some, too.

***

 

24th December, 1993 - evening

Late afternoon on Christmas Eve, it began to snow again, even while darkness spread across the December sky. This did not impede Minerva's work, of course, though she did allow herself to switch on the wireless. The Hogsmeade choir group was scheduled for a performance of the Ballad of Tam Lin, and they rarely disappointed.

At exactly six o' clock, however, she set aside the Fifth Year essays she was marking. Putting on her dress robes and hat, she proceeded to the staff room. Choruses of cheers greeted her there, and Filius was quick to place one of his famous Christmas biscuits in her right hand, and a cup of warm mulled wine - made by Professor Snape, apparently - in her left.

"And now that our Deputy Headmistress has arrived," said Albus, with that requisite twinkle in his eyes, "I deem our staff party officially begun."

"Hear, hear," everyone agreed, raising their own glasses in an impromptu toast.

Though, really, it was not _quite_ a party, but rather more a gathering of the few remaining faculty, along with one or two villagers from Hogsmeade, such as Aberforth Dumbledore. Regardless of the small size, Pomona - whose turn it was this year to handle the staff Christmas party - had done a fantastic job with the decorations. Garlands of evergreens hung across the room, and a beautiful holly wreath took centre stage over the fireplace. On one side, an enchanted harp played gentle tunes of Yule, while across from it stood the staff Christmas tree. This was short and stout, nothing fancy at all compared to the giant in the Great Hall, but charming in its own way. Rings of glittering flowers encircled it, all topped by a floating, twinkling silver star. And at its base, a sack of Secret Santa presents to be exchanged between the teachers.

Indeed, Minerva spied the tartan wrapping paper that covered her own gift for Remus Lupin, peeking out of the sack. He was not present to open it that very night, however, being otherwise occupied with the trials of his monthly transformations. It would have to be sent to his quarters on the morrow. Either way, Minerva thought he would appreciate the rosewood writing desk she had selected for him. The sides were carved with the images of various mythological creatures and events, such as Bellerophon and Pegasus flying together in the sky. Inside it, meanwhile, was a large selection of quality parchment, along with bottles of both erasable and everlasting ink, and a sturdy but elegant swan-feather quill. Altogether, it made for a most practical and handsome gift for a teacher and scholar.

As for her own present, she could only guess what it could be, or whom it might be from, but she imagined most things would be an improvement over the previous year's gift of _Break with a Banshee_ written, autographed and given to her by Gilderoy Lockhart.

The lack of that particular golden-haired pest was one thing to be thankful for this Christmas, certainly. Sipping at her mulled wine, Minerva allowed herself a small smile at the thought, and made to join in Hagrid's conversation with Filius on the best way to prepare mince pies. Certainly, she conceded, there were worse ways to spend it than at Hogwarts with her fellow teachers.

 

***

25th December, 1993 - morning

No toilets to unclog, no mystery spills to clear up, no ruddy Weasley twins to chase into detention. In other words, it was shaping up to be a ruddy good Christmas. Used to be that too many annoying brats would stay back in Hogwarts for the winter holidays, but this was one of the better years. Just him and Mrs. Norris on Christmas Eve and mornin'.

Didn't even matter that they didn't get many presents, the two of them didn't. There were some bits and bobs, mostly from the teachers. Argus, for his part, always made sure to get a new scratching post for Mrs Norris, and a bottle of Ogden's for himself.

Professor Snape had also sent up some fine mulled wine this year, and Argus wasted no time in enjoying it. He poured some into Mrs. Norris's milk, before downing an entire mug of the stuff in one go.

Merlin, but that stuff did go down well - all the way right down to his creakiest toe joints.

"Cheers, Mrs. Norris," he murmured, and she purred in contentment.

Argus nodded to himself, and poured out another goblet of wine. All in all, this year's holiday was turning out not too shabby, not too shabby at all.

(Of course, that was _before_ he discovered that the Weasley twins had left him a present of a mini-swamp in one of the fifth floor corridors.)

 

***

25th December, 1993 - afternoon

The portrait of a young Dashwood Prewitte, who had led the Chudley Cannons to their 1892 Quidditch League victory (a feat which had yet to be repeated, even up to the year 1993), hung by the corridor to the Hufflepuff Common Room. But of course - he had been a Hufflepuff sure and true.

Ordinarily, the 20-inch mahogany frame depicted a tall, lanky lad in violently orange robes astride a broomstick, with blue sky and Qudditch hoops forming a scenic backdrop behind him. On this particular day, however, the scenery had been abandoned. For it was the day of merry Yule, and Dashwood Prewitte had an appointment to keep.

But first, to attend to a most important task - one assigned to him by the portrait of Merlin as a middle-aged man, no less! He was to ensure that Bacchus, who would be arranging the drinks, would be attending the Hogwarts' portraits annual Christmas party.

Fortunately for Dashwood, Bacchus was found lounging with the satyrs of the pastoral painting that hung by the Hogwarts entrances, and _not_ with the maenads of the third floor corridor, as he often was. Those lasses were a rather passionate bunch on the best of days, and best avoided.

The goat men _did_ try to josh with him, blowing some tunes on their reed pipes that made vines and tree branches attempt to tickle Dashwood, but he hadn't been the great Seeker of the Chudley Cannons for naught! He'd zipped in and around them with no problem at all, and even caused a few of them get tangled up in the vines of their own making.

Getting plump Bacchus on his trusted ash broom had, however, been a bit more of a trial. The poor broomstick did not do well with the god's bulky weight, and sagged rather close to the ground. The final effect was that Dashwood and Bacchus seemed to be floating just on the shoulders of the satyrs, who were coming along as Bacchus's entourage.

Circe, whose portrait they had to pass through and who they therefore picked up along on the way, assured them that the effect was entirely intriguing and magical. Cornelius Agrippa, joining their growing part not long after, opined that they looked like idiots.

"But he never has a good thing to say about anyone, so don't take him too seriously, doves," Circe had reassured, somehow managing to turn the celebrated German wizard into a pig.

The antics did not end there as the party soon had to take a detour en route to their final destination. Sir Cadogan, bless him, had apparently antagonised a Minotaur fresco that was now running rampage across several canvases. Regardless, when they finally arrived at the Christmas party venue - a Romantic Tapestry depicting a beautiful Italian landscape, and which took up an entire corridor on the fourth floor - it was just at the right time.

The Vagabond Minstrels, a Sidhe musical group of legend that had been famous for music that verily conjured the images of their singing in the minds of their listeners, played joyful tunes celebrating Yuletide. Uric the Oddball and beautiful Cliodne distributed loaves of bread, while the Great Hunt took up a station by the back to carve up plates of the game beasts that were roasting on spits.

Upon arrival, the satyrs set to work immediately, causing fruits to flower at mere notes from their reed pipes. And Bacchus - why, he merely blinked, and skins of wine appeared in the hands of revellers.

" _Now_ the party is started," boomed Vindictus Viridian.

As per tradition, the mosaic of Merlin as a young boy opened the festivities with a short toast. This would presently be followed by the laying of the star on the Christmas tree - indeed, on the Christmas tree that had been specially dragged in by the Trolls of the Misty Mountains mural by the Astronomy Tower. Since Dashwood was the only one about who could reach the tree without breaking the delicate, Fairy-glass star (which, alas, the Trolls most certainly could not do), this monumental task had also been given to him.

And he took it on with gusto, encircling the tree in elaborate circles and peppering his laps with various stunts for the benefits of the spectators. Ignatia Wildsmith - known better as the inventor of Floo powder - weaved fireworks around him, thus adding to the excitement of the event.

When the star was finally lowered on to the towering Christmas tree, all was silent and respectful. But not a second passed before the noises of joy and revelry took over the Romantic landscape once again.

Thus passed another Yule for the portraits of Hogwarts, and already Dashwood Prewitte his peers looked forward to the next one.

 

***

25th December, 1993 - evening

Christmas morning saw Albus Dumbledore opening presents and cards, like everyone else. For his part, Albus did receive many gifts, from friends both near and far, and all were treasured. Once that was done, he would visit the house-elves in the kitchens. He always ensured to thank them for their efforts in preparing Christmas dinner, and for their tireless work throughout the rest of the year, something Albus regretted to acknowledge that he did not do enough.

Then, onwards to the Great Hall for the feast, greeting feasting and merry-making portraits as he made his way thus. Indeed, a walk down the corridors of Hogwarts in the daytime was rarely quiet, but Christmas Day was an occasion when it would be positively eventful and rambunctious in its own right.

A walk in the night-time, in contrast, was always a quiet affair, but Albus always found that he could not end Christmas at Hogwarts in any other way. Through the never-ending hallways, up and down the countless stairwells, past rooms that disappeared and re-appeared as if by the will of the castle itself. All was silent. All was well.

Thus it was that Albus found himself before the Mirror of Erised, allowing himself one small glimpse. He could easily spend all day in front of that enchanted object, just as young Harry had wanted to, but Albus was mindful of his own advice to the boy. But it was Christmas. What was life, if an old man could not be indulged the occasional lapse of wisdom and good judgement - not least on what was to be the most joyous day of the year?

Not least when it meant he could have his family, whole and hale, shining back at him, even if but for a moment. Mother and Father laughing, arm and in arm, while Ariana and Aberforth danced around Albus, their robes hiked up to their ankles. In the magical looking glass, everyone was wearing socks, striped and patterned things as knit by Ariana's needles. It was one of the few activities she had continued, after her trauma, not that Albus had kept any of those wonderful little gifts...

"Merry Christmas, my dear family," he murmured, and the beautiful faces of his family smiled back at him for one last time, before he covered the mirror again. "Merry Christmas."

They were gone, and it was time to return to the living walls of Hogwarts castle, where all was silent, and all was well.

  
  



End file.
